


What Kind Of Love Is This

by denorios



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-05
Updated: 2010-09-05
Packaged: 2017-10-11 11:45:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/denorios/pseuds/denorios
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How long are we going to do this?" Vin asks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Kind Of Love Is This

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to farad and slavelabour - this one was tough to write, it started out going to places I didn't want to visit, and it took a lot of help to wrangle it more or less back on track. Thanks, my lovelies!

***

It's summer, and the air is heated enough to blister, the rooms of the boarding house stifling, and the sweat makes their bodies slick and slide against each other.

It's rough and it's fast and it's good, so good, and yet so much less than Vin ever wanted. Chris' mouth is hard on his, hard and demanding, and Vin would give him what he doesn't know he needs, would give Chris everything and more if he would only ask, but Chris doesn't ask, Chris never asks and he never has a reason.

Chris, he wants to say, Chris, but Chris puts his hand over Vin's mouth and shakes his head, and when Vin licks the salt from Chris' palm Chris throws his head back and groans.

After, Vin pauses, hand flat against the door, and looks back.

"How long are we going to do this?" Vin asks, and Chris doesn't respond.

***

Chris looks at him across the saloon, tilts his head, and there's a question in his eyes and a hunger. Vin knows what he wants, what he's asking, but he's tired, so tired, and right now he can't look at Chris. He can't touch him knowing it's only skin deep.

He shakes his head and turns away. Chris' touch is fire to his blood, but not balm for his heart, and he wants more than this.

Day after day, he feels, he's standing, holding out his hand and his heart, and Chris walks on by, Chris turns his head away and refuses to see. And when Chris does pull him close he avoids Vin's eyes, he loses himself in Vin's body, but not his heart, never his heart, and Vin doesn't know any other way to reach him.

"How long are we going to do this?" Vin asks, and Chris pretends not to understand.

***

Vin leaves and comes back, leaves and come back, and the sun swings round in the sky and the winter comes in with frost and ice, and he can't break this cycle, he can't end it, he can't leave and make it last.

Chris says nothing when he returns. He says nothing for a long time, but his fingers tremble as they curl around Vin's hips and and his eyes never leave Vin's, not for a second, not for a minute, and it's Vin who blinks, Vin who drops his head and looks away.

"How long are we going to do this?" Vin asks, and Chris turns away in silence.

***

Vin's hands are slick and wet with blood, and Chris is shuddering beneath him, his back arching and his mouth open in a wordless scream.

There's a world around them, Vin knows, there's people and horses and noise, and somewhere someone is dying and somewhere someone is falling in love.

But all he can hear is Chris' labored breathing, all he can see is Chris' hand, limp in the dust, the fingers curling slackly, and all he can smell is the coppery tang of blood. It makes him sick, the smell, it all makes him sick, and he wants to hide but Chris is looking at him and he can't look away.

"How long are we going to do this?" Vin asks, and Chris closes his eyes.

***

Vin traces the scar on Chris' chest and bows his head.

Chris' touch, when it comes, is light and gentle, and his eyes are soft, and it startles Vin, it unnerves him. His breath stutters in his throat and he can only stare at Chris as he lays his palms on Vin's head, and it's like a benediction, it's like forgiveness but for whom he doesn't know.

Chris slips one hand down to curl around Vin's jaw, lays the other on the small of his back, trails kisses along the arch of his neck, and each touch is a question and each kiss an apology.

Vin stands mute, helpless, lost. They have never done this. He has never sheltered within the curve of Chris' arms for no reason other than the fact that he wants to be there, has never rested his forehead against the wing of Chris' collarbone, never been able to touch him for comfort and company. It's too much, it's too much, and his breath comes jagged and harsh.

"How long are we going to do this?" Vin asks, and Chris kisses him.

***

Chris holds on. He wraps arms and legs around Vin, presses kisses into his hair, drags his fingers down Vin's ribcage. He laughs when Vin laughs and he smiles when Vin smiles, and when Vin holds out his hand Chris takes it.

"How long are we going to do this?" Vin asks, and Chris answers.

"Forever."


End file.
